Annoying an Idiot's Brother
by warrior of the nile
Summary: pt 4 of Guarding an Idiot series- AU Sherlock never got along with his brother. John can sympathize. Especially if the git keeps kidnapping him instead of just calling him like any other normal human being. Because all geniuses are drama queens.


The third time the phone rang as he passed, John was slightly annoyed. The fourth time he's exasperation. By the fifth, he answered because obviously he wasn't going to stop until he got his way.

"Hello?"He asked. As if he doesn't already know who it is. He figured this was coming since he meet Sherlock in the lab yesterday.

"I want you to watch very closely." And he does as he moves ever CCTV camera away from him. He gets in the black car and smirks to see a woman already there, working on her blackberry. Or seeming to anyway.

"Long time no see."

"Mmmhmm."

"Got hooked didn't you?" He asks, although he knows the answer. Which is good because won't give him one. "What is it?"

"Zombie Attack."

"So what's your name this time."  
"Anthea." She gives him a small smile.

While they have never been particularly close- with seven years separating them- if John wanted to talk to someone, it was always her. He was fond of her and the feeling is mutual. Even if it's not obvious.

"Settling in alright?"

"Yeah although I was bored out of my mind until yesterday."

She smirks.

"Oh like you wouldn't be either. You aren't any better than I am, no matter how much you pretend."

She doesn't deny it.

He smirks. "Although I admit I got very close to see how entertaining it really is to shoot the wall."

They send the rest of the ride in silence. John spent the time wondering warehouse the git is bring him to and Anthea, presumably, killing zombies.

When they arrive John slides out of the car and looks around. As predicted, the git is standing in near the middle of the room, forcing John to go to him, limping the whole way.

He schools his expression, showing only what he would expect John to be feeling right now. Of course, what's he's really thinking is- _Bloody leg, when is it going to realize that it's healed._- and- _Drama queens. All geniuses are drama queens. It's a proven fact, I swear._

"Ah Doctor Watson. Thank you for joining me. Please, have a seat." He motions to the chair in front of him.

"I'd rather stand, thanks."

He raises an eyebrow. "I insist."

"So do I."

"Very well. What is your association with Sherlock Holmes?"

"Why?"

"I will be asking the questions here Doctor."

"And I should just roll over and do as you say?" John suggests sweetly.

Instead of answering directly, he opens a folder. "Captain John Hamish Watson, M.D. Shot in the shoulder, sent home due to a limp in leg- psychosomatic I'm afraid, serious trust issues, PTSD... Should I continue?"

"Please do." John says sarcastically. _It should be interesting since those notes are faked. The only thing right about them is my bloody limp._

"You don't seem very afraid."

"You don't seem very frightening."

"Could it be that you decided to trust Sherlock Holmes of all people?"

"I could be wrong, but that's none of your business."

"On the contrary Doctor, I worry about him. Constantly."

"Who are you?" _As if I don't already._

"The closest thing he has to a friend."

"And what's that?"

"An enemy- in his mind in any case."

"That's encouraging." John points out helpfully. Just then his phone beeps.

Baker Street. Come at once if convenient. SH

"I hope I'm not boring you."

"Of course not." John smiles brightly.

His eye twitches. John counts it as a victory. "If you are determined to reside in 221B, I could ease your way, so to say."

"In exchange for what?"

"Just information. Nothing you would feel uncomfortable with giving."

Another beep from his phone.

If inconvenient, come anyway. SH

"No thank you. Are we done here?" _Because I have had enough of dealing with you for several days- possible even weeks._

A third text.

Could be dangerous. SH

_And Sherlock is about to do something stupid. What a surprise._

"You tell me."

John nods. "Cheerio then." He walks back to the car and closes the door.

"How did it go?" Anthea asks, smirking.

"Mycroft Bloody Holmes."

* * *

A black car is waiting for him when he walks out of the clinic. _Oh goody. Time for a heart to heart with big brother._

Getting into the car, he leans against the seat and closes his eyes. He still feels drained, even three days after his confrontation with Moriarty. It's not that he expended that much energy. But he can't remember the last time he was that angry. And that did drain him, along with the worry and fear he felt over Sherlock.

He never realized that emotions could be exhausting for humans. It seems ridiculous on some levels. No wonder Sherlock has a habit of avoiding them. Messy.

Anthea lays a hand on his knee. "Alright?"

"Yeah. Just been a hell of a week." He offers a small smile. Even if they were never close, they did look out for each other.

"He knows you two confronted Moriarty and won, but he doesn't know how. He assumes it was you who killed him. Anything else Father has already covered up."

He nods.

"He's pleased with you."

"Which one?"

"Both. But I imagine Father's approval means more than Mycroft's."

"Mmmhmm. Is the lack of data driving him nuts?"

"Completely."

He chuckles. "I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. The git is annoying enough, this should do him some good."

He knows she's smirking even though he doesn't open his eyes to see it. "Mmmhmm." is all she says though.

The car stops at an old parking garage. _Moving up in the world then. I feel privileged. _

Mycroft is waiting for him. "Doctor Watson." He greets. "I am glad to see you looking so well. It was quite a traumatic you experienced, along with my brother."

"Thank you for your concern." He responds in the same tone. _I didn't sign up for this to be kidnapped by you all the time, you git._

"Of course. I was wondering if you would give me your version of the occurrence."

"_My_ version? Did you talk to Sherlock yet?"

Mycroft presses his lips together. "Yes. He was most unhelpful. You know how he can be."

John nods, but doesn't say anything. The silence stretches. _If you think I am going to crack first, you are mistaken. You abduct me, I annoy you. That's how it works for now on._

"If you be so kind as to explain, then we can be on our way."

"Moriarty kidnapped me, Sherlock showed up, we confronted him, he died, we went home." He shrugs. "Not much to add."

Mycroft's eye twitch is too violent to hide effectively. _You aren't the only one who can be vague and _ _irritating._

"Surly there much be something more to add."

John pretends to think for a moment. "No, I don't think so." He smiles. "I'm so glad we could have this conversation, but I really must be going now." Walking away, he waves. "Ta ta."

* * *

John is walking back from Tesco's when a black car pulls up beside him. He sighs, resigned to his fate. _Because Heaven forbid a Holmes do anything the _normal _way. The world might end if they do._

Getting in, he nods to Anthea. Or whatever her name is now. She always had a habit of changing her name weekly, when she didn't need to.

"Dare I ask what the subject of _this_ kidnapping is to be?"

"Your newest status." She says, never looking up from her blackberry.

_Much have been too annoyed before to figure it out right away then. Good. _He smirks.

"What game is it now?"

She smirks. "Call of Duty."

John snickers. "No more Harry Potter?"

She doesn't answer besides flashing him another smirk.

_Oh well, there are worse things to be addicted to. At least the shooting isn't real. She would enjoy that too much. I wonder if Mycroft realized what an adrenaline junkie she can be yet._

The car stops at- _what a surprise_- an abandoned warehouse- _apparently I moved back down. Pity_. The man really needs to be more original. "Have fun." He says as he exits.

There is no answer, but he wasn't expecting one. After all, what is conversation next to the joy of being able to killing the enemy.

Mycroft is leaning on his umbrella in the center of the ill light place. "Ah Doctor Watson, I believe congratulations are in order."

"Oh?"

"It seems my dear brother has finally acted on his feelings."

"Fascinating. If this is where you tell me that if I hurt him and you make me disappear, I assure you that you can skip it."

"Come now doctor, we are both civilized men. There is no need to resort to something as crude as threats."

"Out loud you mean." _And if this isn't the most ironic conversation I have ever had._

"I simply thought perhaps you might like some information on my dear brother, since he is unlikely to tell you himself."

"And why would I want that?"

"Just some insight on how to handle him, now that your... relationship... is growing closer."

John has to take a very deep breath to stop him from doing something he might- maybe, if you catch him on a good day- regret. After all, he'd hate to upset Anthea. It doesn't work very well.

"You listen here you insufferable git. I have_ had it_ with you and your 'oh my poor little brother is so clueless I have to manipulate everyone around him' attitude. You act so superior, but you aren't. You are no better and no worse. You are always so busy trying to run his life that you missed something very important."

"And pray tell what is that Doctor?" Mycroft's voice is icy.

"Your brother. You don't know the first thing about him, not anymore. He isn't the little boy who knew too much, but not enough to know when to be quiet. He grew up. All this time, he didn't need an influential condescending older brother. He needed an understanding friend.

"Sherlock may be different, but that does not make him too difficult to 'handle' or unlovable. He is one of the most remarkable people on this Earth. So no, I do not need tips on 'how to handle him'. I know more about him then you very will. I have always been there for him and I always will be. I can and will provide everything he needs. So you can take your patronizing attitude and stove it up your arse. Good day." As he turns, he mutters "God how does Anthea put up with you?"

He gets back into the car and slams the door. "Keep him away from me for at least two weeks or I might murder him."

Anthea nods gravely.

* * *

They are laying on the couch when the front door opens downstairs. Previously Sherlock had been in his mind palace while John had been reading, holding his book in one hand and running his fingers through Sherlock's hair in the other.

Neither bother moving even though they both know who it is.

"Evening Mycroft." John greets, glancing at him before going back to his book.

"Doctor Watson, brother."

Sherlock doesn't reply. John can tell he is listening, but doesn't say anything. "Figure it out finally?" He asks instead.

"And what would you be referring to?"

John snorts. "You're just put out because I had to practically spell it out for you."

"I had insufficient data to go on."

"You knew Anthea since you were seventeen, your argument is invalid."

"The two of you have no similarities to compare."

"Adrenaline junkies. But then again most angels are, whether they admit it or not. Besides, you didn't figure this out with just what I said. Anthea had to have helped you. Mostly likely so you didn't come near me when I still wanted to kill you. We are very protective of our wards. But I'm sure you realized that already."

"Indeed." Mycroft replies drily. "I would... like to apologize. Anthea did explain a number of things to me, including why you were so offended."

John nods. Sherlock shifts his face so he can hide his smirks. That particular statement is going to get saved for a long time.

"I do wonder, is it often that our guardians take human form to be with us."  
John shrugs. "I have no idea. I know Anthea did it because she was bored. It's obvious why I did it. You would have to ask Father if you wanted a accurate answer. Although I wouldn't recommend it. His sense of humor is... interesting."

"...I see."

_No smart remark? Victory is mine. I finally figured out how to shut a Holmes up. And the most annoying one at that._

"Don't you have another country to invade?" Sherlock asks, finally acknowledging his brother.

"Glad to see you so happy. Mummy will be so pleased."

Sherlock shrugs. "If you can't trust your guardian angel who can you trust?" He smirks. "How's the diet going?"

"Excellent, thank you." Mycroft nods. "Good day Sherlock, Doctor Watson." He retreats out the door and down the stairs.

When they hear the door shut they both break down into laughter.


End file.
